Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.../sigh

Summary: We know how they've spent some of their immortal lives. But what were their lives like as everyday humans? A series of one-shots into the Cullen's human lives.

Edward

When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to that of a soldier's glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I'd only been nine months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck...

--Midnight Sun, ©Stephenie Meyer

It had started like any other day. Edward Masen, Jr. had a routine, and very little swayed him from it. Rise at 6:30, breakfast with his parents at seven, then mathematics, history, and science lessons until 11:30. A break for lunch, then back to lessons—English and literature. At 2:30, he had afternoon tea with his mother, and then a piano lesson, which was the favorite part his day. He dined with his parents at six pm on the dot, then retired to the family room until 9. Then it was time for bed, and the routine would begin again the next morning.

Edward had been content with this routine, content with his path in life until April 6, 1917—the day America declared war on Germany and threw itself into the Great War. He was only two months shy of his seventeenth birthday, and every day he watched his neighbors and friends enlist and go off to fight in the trenches for the glory and honor of their country. And oh, how he wished he was one of them. He brought the subject up numerous times, but Elizabeth Masen forbade it—over her dead body would her only child go off to war while he was under her roof. Edward tried to get his father's permission, but Edward Masen, Sr. would not go against his wife's wishes.

And so Edward waited. He stuck to his routine, though he was much less vigorous than before. In March of 1918, though, a new worry made itself known in the Masen household. From Kansas and New York, there came reports of a strain of influenza so virulent it could kill a perfectly healthy man in a day. By the time Edward's seventeenth birthday came around, it was normal to hear the little girls skip rope to a poem about a little bird:

I had a little bird,

Its name was Enza.

I opened the window,

and in-flew-Enza.

But Edward had little concern for it. The draft age had been lowered to eighteen, and he certainly knew looked it. He planned to enlist at the end of September, regardless of his mother's decree.

That September day started like any other. But by noon, his father had taken ill. It was his mother's worst nightmare come true...the Spanish influenza had found them. They'd been so careful, wearing the masks and taking every other precaution they could think of. But it was to no avail.

Edward knew his mother was terrified. And he was worried for her. From the moment his father was taken to the hospital, his mother had been by his side. It was only a matter of time before she fell ill. And Edward simply would not allow it. He went to bring his mother home, and saw her speaking with a tall, blond-haired man. The doctor. His mother's face seemed to fall as he spoke, and she looked ill herself, but she refused to leave. And so, Edward stayed with her. He didn't want to leave her alone.

He was groggy, and every inch of his body ached like he'd been run over by a freight train. And despite the wool blanket he was swathed in, he was freezing. But why was the wind whistling in his ears, and why did he feel as though he were flying? Was this what it was to die? Of course...that would be rational.

As soon as he came to this conclusion, however, the feeling of flying stopped. He was on a bed. It was soft and warm. A cold hand brushed the hair that was stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, and he heard the voice of an angel. So he was dying. But why did that voice sound so familiar?

"Edward...everything will be alright. I'm sorry."

If everything is all right, why are you apologizing?

Then he felt a slicing at his neck, his wrists, his ankles. Before he could register why, the burning took hold, and he screamed.

Sometimes the memories came back in flashes. Especially when he was with Bella. Somehow, it got a little clearer. And he liked that.

A/N--So school has kicked my butt and then some, which is why it's been three months since I've updated. I promise it won't take me nearly as long to get the next one-shot (which will be Esme) out. Anywho, here's Edward's chapter. It's a different style than Carlilse's, but it works. 8) Please, review and let me know what you think! Oreo truffles and a chocolate-covered Edward for everyone who does!

=Britt.